Jackson pulls the door open and I glance down into the depths. The magical depths.
I head down the stairs and look at all of the things I’ve bought for this wonderland. “Jackson, I have failed you.”
“How is that?” he asks as he watches me walk over to the couch, the only average piece of equipment down here, and flop down face-first on it.
Since I haven’t responded, Jackson asks, “Can you explain how you’ve failed me?”
“I haven’t bought anything new to torture you with. No new toys. No new outfits. Nothing. I have failed you.”
He stares down at me. “Oh noooooo, I’m sosadthat you didn’t grab anything else to torture me with. Sooooo sad. I’m just… devastated… yes, that’s the word.”
This couch… strangely feels so comforting while my husband is being vicious to me.
“Jackson…”
“Yeah?”
“Am I… Am I too tired to engage in wild sex? Is this because of our new child? Is it because we’re new fathers? I have heard that parenthood is the most exhausting experience one can have.”
“I… I think that only works when the child is like… a newborn,” Jackson says as he swings his leg over my ass and sits down on it. “I think that maybe you’re tired after chasing bad guys around and all of that jazz. Kind of was a bit much.”
“Hmm.”
He smacks on my back a little bit.
“Is this sex?” I ask.
“Yes, this is sex,” Jackson says with much sarcasm. He flips the back of my shirt up and proceeds to smack Blow-Up Randy’s head against it. It’s weirdly comforting.
“You like that?” Jackson asks, like he’s inflicting some wild sex move on me.
“Oh yesssss,” I moan.
He leans over and I assume he’s going to kiss me or maybe nibble on me, but instead he blows a raspberry on me. It makes me laugh and squirm under him.
“What are you doing?” I ask, trying to roll over.
“I am doing The Sex,” Jackson informs me.
“Yeah?” I ask as he grabs my ankles and pulls them up. “Are you making origami out of me?”
“It’s a new sex position,” he assures me.
“Oh yesss, I see it now. Thank you for opening me up to such otherworldly positions.”
He yanks my socks off and tosses one on my head.
“Ew, noooo.”
“You expect me to love these feet and you can’t even suffer through snuffing your own sock?” he asks as he grabs one of my feet and pushes it into Blow-Up Rhonda’s open mouth. “You like that?”
“No! I’m not sure I do,” I respond through my laughter. I try to twist over so I can face Jackson while my foot is stuck in some kind of romantic rendezvous with Rhonda.
“She says she likes that,” Jackson tells me.
I kick Rhonda away from my foot, hook my husband, and pull him just enough that I can roll onto my back.
“Well, hello, handsome,” I say as I look up at him.
